Chapter 27: What Does It Mean to Be a Specialist in Doing It Twice?

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Chapter 27: What Do You Call an Expert at Scoring Brace After Brace?

“Cazorla sends it across! Li Mo! A sliding finish at the far post! Beautiful! Beautiful! One–two! Arsenal have turned the score around!”

“It’s Li Mo again! It has to be Li Mo!”

“Brilliant!”

“Huh? What’s Li Mo doing? Mbiwa—good heavens! Has Mbiwa lost his mind?! He’s shoved Li Mo to the ground!”

“That’s a chokehold! That’s a straight red!”

The commentators were stunned.

The Montpellier supporters in the stands stared blankly at the pitch.

The players from both sides, however, were the first to react.

Walcott charged over.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Don’t start anything!”

The Montpellier players came rushing in as well.

Before long, the players from both teams were tangled together.

A confrontation was inevitable.

Li Mo got to his feet but did not join the fray.

He knew Mbiwa was finished.

The dark-skinned lad thought he could outsmart him?

He was far too confident.

Little Mbiwa, couldn’t you have put that energy into studying instead?

Sure enough.

Once the referee had broken up the confrontation, he began settling accounts.

Walcott was shown a yellow card. Then the referee walked over to Li Mo and produced another yellow.

“Me? A yellow card?!”

Li Mo was utterly baffled.

“You shouldn’t provoke your opponent.”

“But I didn’t touch him!” Li Mo protested.

“I make my own judgments.”

The referee wrote Li Mo’s number on the card, then ran toward Mbiwa.

Now that he had calmed down, Mbiwa knew exactly what awaited him.

He had shoved the other man with a hand around his neck. If he had grabbed him anywhere else, there might still have been room for discussion.

He tried to plead his case.

But before he could say a word, the referee had already raised the red card high into the air.

“Red card! Mbiwa has been sent off. Shoving Li Mo to the ground was an incredibly rash thing to do.”

Mbiwa could only shake his head and laugh bitterly.

He had wanted to teach the rookie a lesson, yet the rookie had managed to get him sent off instead.

With his teammates’ consolation ringing in his ears, Mbiwa left the pitch.

Montpellier now faced the match with ten men and a deficit on the scoreboard.

There was nothing they could do.

They had to take off a forward and send on a defender.

If Montpellier had previously been relying on defensive counterattacks, then for the remainder of the match—

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Montpellier had nothing left but defense.

“Mbiwa’s lack of composure has all but plunged Montpellier into despair. Arsenal are now completely dictating the match.”

The commentators shook their heads in the booth.

During the stoppage in play, the broadcast director replayed the little drama that had unfolded between Mbiwa and Li Mo.

The footage clearly showed how the “conflict between the two men had steadily escalated.”

Li Mo’s provocation after scoring had evidently been the spark that made Mbiwa explode.

But no one knew what Li Mo had said.

The two men had been standing too close together, and none of the cameras had captured Li Mo’s mouth from any angle.

Still, none of that mattered anymore.

The English commentators praised Li Mo for being young yet remarkably mature in his mindset.

The French commentators, meanwhile, were unanimous in criticizing Mbiwa for losing his head.

As the match continued, everyone’s attention returned to the action.

“Walcott gets to the byline… cross! Li Mo with the header! Ohhh! Just over!”

“Li Mo from the edge of the box! Goalkeeper Jourdren with a magnificent save!”

“Giroud! Tight angle—he’s put it over!”

“Cazorla with the drive! Jourdren saves again!”

During this spell, Montpellier goalkeeper Jourdren became the busiest player on the team.

Only a string of excellent saves had kept Montpellier from conceding again.

But when a goalkeeper became the focal point of a match, it was proof that his team’s defense was in serious trouble.

A goalkeeper could make one save, two saves, three saves.

But he could not keep stopping everything forever.

The eighty-sixth minute arrived.

Cazorla slipped a through ball in from the top of the penalty arc.

Li Mo beat the offside trap and burst into the box!

“Li Mo… one-on-one!”

Amid the commentators’ cries and the jeers of the home crowd—ever since Mbiwa had been sent off, Li Mo had become Montpellier’s main target.

Every time he touched the ball, a wall of boos rose from the stands.

Now the entire stadium seemed to tremble beneath the noise.

The shrill jeers stabbed at everyone’s ears.

Every eye was fixed on the duel unfolding inside the penalty area between goalkeeper and striker.

Montpellier goalkeeper Jourdren lowered his center of gravity and charged at Li Mo.

He came on aggressively.

As a goalkeeper, he knew exactly how to handle a one-on-one.

First of all, he had to overwhelm his opponent with sheer presence.

If the striker became afraid, then half the battle was already won.

For a striker, a one-on-one was ultimately more a test of mentality than anything else.

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Li Mo was not intimidated by Jourdren’s imposing charge.

He watched the far corner of the goal and lifted his foot slightly, shaping as though he were about to place the ball there.

“Li Mo shoots!”

The commentators cried out in unison.

Jourdren also believed Li Mo was going for the far corner—a common choice in a one-on-one.

And Li Mo had just scored a brace against Manchester City in the previous Premier League match.

His reputation was already growing.

How could Montpellier’s coaching staff possibly have overlooked him?

Before the match, Jourdren had received the coaching staff’s reports on the technical characteristics of Arsenal’s forwards.

He knew Li Mo lacked the ability to dribble past opponents and was not particularly quick, so he was certain Li Mo would never try to round him and roll the ball into an empty net.

A direct shot was the most logical choice.

So when Li Mo shaped to shoot, Jourdren decisively shifted his weight toward his right.

But at that instant, Li Mo did not strike the ball.

Instead, he used his left foot to drag it across onto his right, then pushed it toward the near corner!

Jourdren had initially covered the near post.

But when he shifted his weight toward the far corner, that side of the goal was exposed.

With a feint, Li Mo created the opening he needed to shoot toward the near post.

The ball skimmed past Jourdren’s left hand.

It was not traveling especially fast.

Seeking precision, Li Mo had not dared put too much power behind it.

Had he simply lashed out without restraint, the ball might have gone sailing anywhere.

But even with its modest pace, Jourdren—who had already committed most of his weight—could no longer shift himself back.

He froze in place.

Helplessly, he watched the ball roll past his feet.

It kissed the inside of the near post and nestled into the net!

“Li Mo! It’s in! Beautiful!”

“Ohhh! He sends the goalkeeper the wrong way with a feint and then slots it into the near corner! So calm! Incredibly calm!”

“Li Mo has displayed a maturity far beyond his years! He calmly finishes the one-on-one. One–three! Arsenal have sealed the victory!”

“Another brace! A brace in his second consecutive match! A brace on his Champions League debut!”

“He’s practically a specialist in scoring braces on his debut!”

In the commentary booth, every commentator erupted with excitement.

The Montpellier supporters sat in the stands, staring helplessly at the Arsenal players celebrating wildly.

Two goals down.

A man short.

Montpellier’s cause was hopeless.

End of Chapter